A Series of Entirely Rational Decisions
by Oleander Black
Summary: Harry is about to come of age, and Severus is sent to help him through the transition.    Pre-seventh-year, ignores HBP.  May be considered chan in some areas  Harry is 17 .  Clichéd and crackish, creaturefic.  Slash, HPSS.  Not beta read.  WIP.
1. The Inexplicable Behavior of

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or any material or idea falling under that trademark. I have read extensive amounts of fanfiction, and any resemblence to any other works is unintentional. This is a work of fiction from which I make no profit. This story contains material that some may find offensive or disturbing. There are warnings for that reason. Please read the warnings and utilize your right to NOT read if any of these are a problem for you. I cannot be held responsible for those who ignore them. This story has not been beta-read.

**Warnings: _slash, male/male, Snarry or SSHP, creaturefic, clichéd, crackish, and chan in some countries (Harry is 17). _**

**A/N:** Aaand my "don't post it until it's finished" rule has just been shot to hell. This story is a work in progress, however, it has a very detailed outline. I expect it to be 10-12 chapters long. The goal (GOAL, not promise, mind you) is to post a chapter every Friday by 11:59 PM EST. This story will also be posted to my account at the Archive of Our Own. This is a seventh-year fic that ignores the events of HBP. Concrit is more than welcome.

This story is for Luna, with the hope that it will make her laugh, and at least partially make up for the entertainment lost because of my absence.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Inexplicable Behavior of Mrs. Petunia Dursley<strong>

His orders were perfectly clear. They were, in fact, so completely and utterly precise that Severus Snape, a master at exploiting loopholes, could find no way around his uncomfortable and entirely unwanted duty. Still, approaching the house, Severus glanced down at the paper.

_Arrive at the residence of Harry Potter, student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at precisely half past noon on July 23__rd__ of the year in which aforementioned student comes of age. Tutor student in preparation for his Coming of Age, and ensure that preparation is complete prior to the event, regardless of personal biases. Bring said student to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix immediately upon completion of his transition. During the time period necessary for the transition, preparation, and recovery, do not leave the student, Harry Potter, alone, or with any person, muggle or magical, for any period of time exceeding a literal nanosecond._

Severus was confused by the final directive, but chalked it up to paranoia on the Headmaster's part, and the presumptive ignorance of wizarding custom on the part of the entire household.

Severus glared distastefully at the manicured lawns of Privet Drive. He thrived on order, yes, but this was order taken a bit too far. Sneering at the picket fence of Number 4, he strode into the yard, approached the door, and rang the doorbell. As he waited for an answer he reflected that at the very least he would have the opportunity to torment and instill some discipline in the useless Gryffindor, if the boy's reckless insubordination didn't drive him mad first.

The door opened.

The woman had a face like a horse. An unattractive nag, really, Severus thought coolly, and she looked the type _to _nag as well. Severus blinked at her disbelievingly for a moment. Could this be Lily's sister? The woman before him bore little resemblance to the woman he'd once fancied himself in love with, before he'd grown up and realized where his tastes really lay.

"Yes?" Petunia Dursley asked, glancing at his case. "If you're here to sell something, we're not interested, you should try Number 8, Mrs. Howard will buy anything—"

Severus cut her off before the woman's whine could further insinuate itself into his ear. "I am not here to sell anything, Mrs. Dursley. I am Professor Severus Snape, here to speak to your nephew, Mr. Potter."

Petunia blanched, and her eyes grew very wide. "There's no one of that name here, Mr. Snape, I'm sorry, you have the wrong address—" Her voice was nervous and too quick, and Severus slid a foot in the door as she attempted to close it in his face.

"You are Mrs. Vernon Dursley, née Petunia Evans, and your nephew, Harry Potter, is a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I am a professor. I am in no way mistaken in the address."

Petunia gaped horribly and released the door. Severus took his opportunity to enter, closing the door behind him so as to block Petunia's escape. Her eyes were darting every which way, and Severus was mildly amused by her fear. It also confirmed his theory that the Boy-Who-Lived was spoiled by his relatives, who obviously felt threatened by his abilities (though in Severus' opinion, he had next to none).

Severus continued. "You will recall, Mrs. Dursley, that on the occasion of your sister's seventeenth birthday, she was visited by a teacher to assist her through the transition involved with her Coming of Age. I am here to do the same for your nephew. I am admittedly a bit earlier than normal, but Mr. Potter requires instruction on the matter, as he was near-comatose and in the Hospital Wing when the subject was covered in class."

He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to one o'clock. He'd been at the Dursley residence a quarter of an hour and seen nor hide nor hair of Potter. Throwing a sneer at Petunia, he took up his lecture again. "Your nephew's transition will begin on his birthday. I will probably take him a full week to recover. I will impose upon your hospitality until Mr. Potter's recovery is complete. My instructions are to then remove him from your house, and I cannot say, after that, when you will see him again."

Petunia was muttering something under her breath. Severus caught the words "neighbors think," "freak," "never see," and "too soon."

Severus had one thing left to say. "I shall endeavor to disrupt your routine as little as possible, though due to restrictions on underage magic, I shall join you at mealtimes until after the transition."

Petunia gaped again. "But—"

Severus had already swept out of the foyer and begun to inspect the house. It was as austere and obsessively clean as the neighborhood lawns. He inspected the kitchen. Clean, well-equipped for a muggle kitchen, although some of the items in the refrigerator and pantry were so over-processed as to turn his stomach at the thought of eating them. The dining room was plain, the good china neatly displayed in a glass cabinet, and a fine wooden liquor cabinet tucked neatly under the sideboard. The living room was likewise neat and orderly, though the frozen photographs irritated Severus. They all seemed to be of a blond boy so fat as to be barely recognizable as a boy and not some engorged animal. There were no pictures of Potter, and Severus didn't blame Mrs. Dursley for that—_he_ wouldn't want photos of Potter in his living room either—even if her taste was otherwise so mundanely cliché and tacky as to give him a headache.

Severus is sure that Potter will be more of a headache.

That thought brings his mind back to his instructions, and with an internal sigh, he admits he needs to find Potter. He pays no heed to the horsey woman following him at all. "Potter!" he calls out sharply.

There is no answer. Petunia Dursley is clutching her immaculate white apron so hard that her knuckles are turning white. Severus does not notice.

"Potter!" Severus snaps again.

This time, when he receives no reply, he whirls to interrogate Petunia.

"Would you like tea?" the woman asks, nonsensically, before Severus can demand Potter's whereabouts.

Severus is about to release a scathing retort when he hears the hoot of an owl. He spins on his heel again and marches up the stairs.

The owl leads him to the door at the very end of the hall, where three heavy locks hold the door shut. Severus wishes he could lock Potter in the Gryffindor dormitory during the school year, though knowing Potter it wouldn't do much good.

Severus turned, and as expected, discovered Petunia hovering behind him worriedly. "Open it," he commanded, and Petunia, trembling, obeyed.

The door swung open to reveal the owl, who clicked her beak at him reprovingly.

"Hush," Severus told her. "I came when I heard you, did I not?"

The owl clicked again, and ruffled her feathers.

Severus scanned the rest of the room (a mess, books and clothing everywhere) and located Potter on the bed.

The boy was sleeping with his back to the door, curled up around himself. Of the skin that was bare to Severus' eyes (the boy's shoulderblades and the back of his right arm, Severus could see bruising, and there was actually a rather nasty cut on his arm.

Severus' lip curled. "Potter!" he snapped out, and the boy jerked awake, scrambling to pull a shirt off the floor and pull it over his head, snatch his glasses and stand up. It was at this point that he noticed Severus.

"Professor Snape?" the boy gaped.

"Unable to stay out of trouble even with Muggles, Potter?" Severus spat. He noted that the boy's right eye was blackened. "How do you expect to prepare for your Coming of Age in such an appalling state?"

"My what?"

It was Severus' turn to gape, although he stopped himself just in time. He was about to deliver another scathing comment, when a tremor shook the house, and a childish, nasally voice rang out:

"MUUUUUUM!"


	2. The Pig in the Wig

**Chapter 2: The Pig in the Wig**

"MUUUM!" the insufferable noise came once more, and the house shook again.

Severus felt a headache coming on. "Petunia," he growled, "either make that racket cease or I will Silence it myself."

The woman gave a terrified nod and left the room. The house continued to tremble, and Severus heard the woman's voice: "I'm here, Dudders! Sit down and watch the telly while I bring you your snack!" The tremors ceased a few moments later.

Satisfied, Severus surveyed the room again. He was alone with the boy and the owl.

"Well, Potter? How do you expect to prepare for your Coming of Age in a room like this, in that kind of shape?"

Potter stared at him blankly.

"Go put Muggle medicines and bandages on that lot and come back here, you cretin!" Severus exclaimed (momentarily forgetting that he would have to accompany the boy, as per the Headmaster's instructions). "And get an antiseptic for that cut!"

Potter looked dazed. "Sir, I'm not allowed out of my room except for chores—"

"Then consider this a chore!" Severus, agitated picked the boy up by his very large, scruffy t-shirt, and hauled him bodily out of the room.

Stumbling, Potter led Severus down the stairs and through the living room, where Severus nearly lost his composure. There, sitting in front of the television, was the most monstrous excuse for a child that Severus had ever seen. Potter, he considered, was extremely fortunate not to have ended up like _that_. Obviously some biological quirk had saved him. The boy did have phenomenal luck. Severus shook his head and followed Potter on.

The boy led him to a powder room, where behind the mirror was a medicine cabinet. Potter's hands shook as he reached inside, pulling out bottles and swabs and a set of band-aids. Severus watched sternly—if the boy mucked this up it could destroy his concentration during his Coming of Age, and given the expectations, that would be disastrous.

Potter seemed to be doing fine until he had no choice but to tend to the nastiest of the cuts—the one Severus had noticed in particular. He poured the antiseptic onto a swab, then gingerly wiped at the cut—certainly not thoroughly enough to really clean it. Severus reached out and grabbed Potter's wrist, wrenched the swab from his shocked hand, and proceeded to clean the cut. Potter cried out sharply at the first real swab, then bit his lip. When Severus was satisfied and dropped the swab into the bin, Potter breathed an audible sigh of relief, and set about bandaging his arm with gauze. Severus prepared to exit the confined space, but then Potter caught his arm and said, in a voice far too shy for a boy his age: "Did you mean me to finish the rest myself?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "The rest?"

Potter blushed and gestured toward his trousers.

"Strip, Potter," Severus commanded.

The boy winced, and obeyed. His legs were in the same shape as his arms, if not worse. Apparently his assailants, or whatever hooligans he was fighting with, were intelligent enough to leave the worst of the damage on skin Potter wouldn't be exposing. Severus briefly considered following their example, but reconsidered as he reminded himself that Potter was far less tractable at school.

It took another twenty minutes for Potter to finish cleaning himself up and get his pants back on, although Severus was not required to step in again. As they walked back through the living room, however, the monstrous boy took note of them.

"MUUUUM!" he bellowed. "Harry used the medicine cabinet!"

Petunia appeared like lightning, took one look at Severus, and said faintly, "Yes, darling, it's all right. I'll explain later."

Dudley frowned. "Who're you?" he asked rudely.

Petunia hastened to answer before Severus could formulate a biting retort. "That's Mr. Snape, darling. He's staying with us, and then he's going to take Harry away in just a few weeks."

Dudley's eyes widened. Then he squeaked, jumped to his feet, clamped his mouth shut and scurried off to his room, attempting to protect his bulging buttocks with his hands all the way.

Severus' nostrils flared. The Dursley boy was _repulsive_. A pig in a wig would make a more pleasant child than that boy. It made him think that there was an infinitesimally small possibility…no. Severus should consider himself lucky that Potter was at least somewhat attractive physically and leave it at that. He was still a spoilt brat.

With a final glare at Petunia, Severus shepherded Potter back up to his room. Once inside, he issued his next command.

"Now, Potter. I will begin instructing you, whilst you make this room a fit place for a wizard to live!"

With a confused glance, Potter moved to start making his bed. Severus shut the door, conjured himself a chair, and sat. Potter spun around furiously.

"If you can use magic here, why didn't you just heal me?" he demanded.

Severus regretted the departure of an obedient Potter. "_Because_," he said caustically, "it is extremely inadvisable for you to perform or receive magical influences while preparing for your Coming of Age."

"But you haven't explained what that _is_."

"Potter, you cannot possibly believe that you can convince me that _no one _has ever informed you of the significance of your Coming of Age."

The boy looked at him. "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about."

Severus could feel a headache coming on. There was a rushing sound, and drums were pounding in his ears—no. There actually was a rushing sound, and the music of drums. And regular explosions. Coming from the room next door.

"Potter, this is unbelievable. What is that noise?"

"It's Dudley's computer. He's playing a game. Sir, could you _please_ explain what's going on?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get cleaning, Potter, and I will instruct you."

The boy hesitated, then obeyed.

Severus continued. "As a young wizard, it is expected that on your seventeenth birthday you will undergo a kind of magical surge that boosts the power of your magic. The surge can either exacerbate or reverse the effects of any magical traces on your person, and it leaves you extremely vulnerable to magical influences for about a week after." He glared at Potter, who was finished making his bed, and had proceeded to pick his clothes up off the floor and put them in a laundry basket. "If I had healed you, I would not have been able to predict whether the surge would kill you by reversing all the damage, or by forcing your body to replicate the healing process until it destroys, say…your liver."

Potter had moved on to organizing his desk.

Severus continued. "The only way to leave your magic "uninfluenced," as it were, is to avoid contact with it altogether. You should not, for example, use a Spell-Check Quill, or any charmed materials until after the ceremony."

Potter's head jerked around to Severus, he dropped the stack of books he was holding with a loud thud. Triumphant horns blared from the room next door, and then the whooshing and exploding resumed. "There's a ceremony?"

Potter's owl hooted irritably, as if to chide her master for interrupting. Severus felt excessively grateful for the intervention. "Yes, Potter. In order to contain the effects to your person, you and I will be performing what is called the Waking Rite. The focus of the next few days will be learning the runes necessary to protect you from outside influences, and this room, this house, and me from _you_."

Potter's jaw was apparently incapable of closing. The Dursley boy seemed to be moving again, for the utterly distracting sensation of the house shaking resumed. The explosions, however, continued.

"Should you fail in these endeavors, Mr. Potter, rest assured I shall not take responsibility for the damage."

"What damage?"

Potter's owl hooted reassuringly at her master.

Severus felt his lip curl.

"Headmaster Dumbledore believes that your Waking will multiply your power several times over. The assimilation of that power can be both difficult and unpleasant."

The boy grimaced as he began sorting through piles of parchment.

Severus sneered and opened his mouth to commence another lecture, but the explosions from the room next door grew louder, and the house began to shake even more noticeably.

Severus had reached the limit of his patience. He stood abruptly, wrenched open the door, and said, in a quiet but deadly voice that nevertheless felt like a shout, "Cease that racket at once!"

As it happened, he was face to face with an adult, mustached, beady-eyed version of Dudley. He supposed, without remorse, that he had the displeasure of addressing Mr. Vernon Dursley.

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><p>Next Time: <em>The Fat Man Returns, and Wishes He Hadn't<em>

In which Severus can no longer ignore the erumpent in the room, and is less than pleased with the Dursleys.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope I didn't lose to many people with the delay...but it looks like this is on a lot of alert lists, so I hope you're liking it. In my defense: real life comes first. **

**I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review if you have any constructive criticism. They make my day.**

**Please see Chapter 1 for a disclaimer.**


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